To Find My Way To You
by Vetesse
Summary: Ziggy/Dillon, massive RPM saga. All of RPM from a slash perspective focused around this couple. Major H/C ahead. Summary - As Dillon succumbs to the Venjix virus and struggles to find answers to his past, Ziggy and Dillon come together through the storm.
1. Prolouge

To Find My Way (To You) – An RPM Saga (Ziggy/Dillon)

_Prologue :: Sand Swept

_The land for hundreds of miles stretching in all directions was a toxic, radiated dump._

_ There wasn't much of the Earth that wasn't – thanks to Venjix._

_ The man standing on the sand dune overlooking what had probably once been a busy city didn't know much about that. Just about what was. And the obvious._

_ He didn't remember the last struggle and fall of mankind. From old yellowed newspapers he'd gotten the story though pretty clear. Venjix had taken over everything, computer networks – the stock markets, everything. He'd drained the world dry and his foot soldiers had swept up._

_ To the man who didn't remember anything before, wasn't even sure about the name he'd given to himself, and only had nightmares to keep him company – it held little in the way of what he had to deal with now._

_ Call it a defeatist attitude but he considered it more practical. He couldn't change what had happened, he didn't even know what had happened to him._

_ All he knew was that out there somewhere, in the land that time had well and forgotten, he had a sister._


	2. Chapter One

_Chapter One :: 'What's a Guy Like You, Doing in a Place Like This'

_The land for hundreds of miles stretching in all directions was a toxic, radiated dump._

_ There wasn't much of the Earth that wasn't – thanks to Venjix._

_ The man standing on the sand dune overlooking what had probably once been a busy city didn't know much about that. Just about what was. And the obvious._

_ He didn't remember the last struggle and fall of mankind. From old yellowed newspapers he'd gotten the story though pretty clear. Venjix had taken over everything, computer networks – the stock markets, everything. He'd drained the world dry and his foot soldiers had swept up._

_ To the man who didn't remember anything before, wasn't even sure about the name he'd given to himself, and only had nightmares to keep him company – it held little in the way of what he had to deal with now._

_ Call it a defeatist attitude but he considered it more practical. He couldn't change what had happened, he didn't even know what had happened to him._

_ All he knew was that out there somewhere, in the land that time had well and forgotten, he had a sister..._

And she was lost just like he was.

Taking a breath of dusty and gritty but relatively clean air and letting it out, before slipping the confining gas mask back over his face – his eyes scanned over the landscape. She was out there somewhere and he was going to find her. No matter how long it took. Or just what it cost. They couldn't both be lost too. And maybe she had memories he didn't. Maybe she knew who he was – maybe he'd find out who she was.

A gust of wind toppled over a piece of metal siding, though he didn't move. He felt the pressure pushing against him but easily he compensated without even having to think and the wind died down and passed. Night was falling and no matter how different he was, it was dangerous for anybody to be wandering around after dark.

So he reached down for his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and headed back for the Fury, its wide set tires already having shifted into the sand despite him only having left it for a brief time. Leave it for a day and it wouldn't even be recognizable, the sand swallowing it up like it did most in this area.

He needed more supplies, he needed more rations and maybe some sleep. But he'd prefer not to do that last part.

Opening the driver's side door and getting in, he shut the door behind him before reaching back for a can of tuna he'd stashed there in what little supplies he'd had left. He'd found it in the last city he'd gone through – most of the store had been wiped out but a few things had remained.

It wasn't bad, it was food. And in this day and age, you'd be lucky to find anything at all.

The next morning he struck out again for the wastelands, trying to catch a signal from the radio station that he had been struggling to get a lock on for weeks. Weeks? Months? He couldn't tell. Time was relative. As if Venjix had wiped that out too when he'd taken over the planet.

But he had one stop to make before he continued trying to look for Corinth. She could be out there somewhere, in the city with the other survivors. If it even existed. If Venjix hadn't taken it over already but he couldn't think about that. The only thing that kept him going was that one illusive hope that his sister was out there, alive and waiting for him. Corinth seemed to be the best place to start. If he could just get there.

Driving was like a mad dash from one point to the other. Grinders were everywhere and Venjix didn't like survivors. So staying in one place wasn't an option and most of the driving he did was a suicidal run from point 'a' to 'b' and so on.

He decided today was a good day when he didn't get stopped by any of Venjix's foot soldiers and made it out past what he called 'the Wastes' into an area that last time he had checked, hadn't been contaminated. Sort of. The whole place was still relatively radioactive but for some reason it didn't affect him much. And then there was the 'sand stretching on for miles and miles' part. But that could be said for how much of the planet looked.

But getting out of the Fury, he smiled – still seeing it there, alive and intact.

A single yellow flower. A carnation he had found out after doing a bit of research. Somehow the thing was still alive out here, quite possibly there had been fields of them in this area but now not even weeds grew. Except this flower. He couldn't explain it, wouldn't try. It did give him a bit of hope for the future though, which is probably why he kept returning to it.

Scanning the air for any toxic radiation or hazards with a portable device he'd stolen from an outpost city that now lay in ruin – he was happy from the break from his gas mask when it gave the all clear beep, flashing from red to green. He tossed the device back into the passenger side and reached for his mask – gratefully taking off the somewhat flimsy piece of rubber and tossing it into the Fury beside the Tox-Scanner.

He also grabbed the last remaining bottle of water, giving the gas gauge a look. He was nearly out of gas, maybe thirty miles left on the tank. All the gas stations had gone dry and it was hell finding one that could still be tapped. It looked like his years of wandering the Wastes might end like this – if he didn't find Corinth. It appeared this was his last and probably only chance. He'd never been this close before but the radiation was making things... difficult. And then there was the barricade.

Taking half of the remaining water for himself and giving the rest to the flower, he took a moment – just a second – to relax and not _think _for a change. The soft yellow petals, shinning softly in the afternoon sun – a sign of life despite all the odds against it – made it easy. It was almost soothing. Right here and right now there wasn't anything else. Probably another reason why he kept coming back to this spot, if only to forget about the things he had forgotten, just for a bit.

But a sound brought him short, one that he recognized all too clearly and it sent a surge of anger and annoyance coursing through him. It seemed his two day break of luck without any Grinder attacks was over. Of all the places – his one remaining place of solitude and reflection was _not _the place he wanted those _things _around.

They haunted his dreams, turning them into nightmares and his not so waking dreams too. There had been other faces in the hell he'd practically been conceived in but he remembered the Grinders too. Just another reason why he didn't mind ripping them apart with his bare hands.

And so that's exactly what he did, catching them off guard by taking a flying leap over the top of the Fury and landing in the middle of them – keeping them away from the flower and shoving them back as he took them apart. But he couldn't exactly bring himself to enjoy it – even on these mechanical, lifeless foot soldiers, he was no killer. He hated them, he hated what they represented – what they had been doing to him in the few remaining memories he had, but most of all he hated what they made him do.

It was getting later in the afternoon by the time he picked up the signal again for Corinth. It had been his steady lullaby for days now – the constant chatter, the distress call his only hope to find his sister but every time he got close – or what he thought was close – he'd lose it again. And there was no way of telling if he was even anywhere close, nothing but a beat up map and an equally beat up compass to get him anywhere.

Spreading the map in question out on the hood, he took a sucker out of his pocket. Lemon – it was the only flavor left. Not that he was complaining exactly. It was better than nothing and he was out of food and now out of water. He'd discovered not only a love for suckers in the past months but they also provided a distraction from an empty stomach – or an upset one. That and they also made great adhesive for explosives.

Taking out the locket from around his neck, he twisted the key into it and wound it up, separating it from the chain and setting it on the hood. It was a little hard to breathe out here, he told himself it was the dust. But he'd been showing little signs, little symptoms since leaving the hell hole that had claimed his sister... that had started to make him wonder just what the mechanical parts inside him were doing to the rest of his body. Sometimes his stomach hurt after eating, sometimes after battles it was hard to catch his breath. Just the little things... the small things. Like the melody coming from the only piece of truth he had left in his life. Soft... haunting, soothing –

He gave a start, feeling something suddenly pushed into the middle of his back –

"Hold it right there!"

Dillon turned to look but he got shoved forward a bit for his trouble.

"Eyes front!" the mysterious person commanded but Dillon was already tired of this. Judging by the slight waver to the man's voice too, he was hardly the hardened rebel without a cause he was trying to portray himself as.

But Dillon did _not _have the time or patience for this.

"Hands up, hands up! Where I can see them."

Dillon straightened a bit, reaching over for the sucker in his mouth and pulling it out as he straightened his hands, dropping it to the sand with a soft sigh. This was ridiculous.

"Okay... okay now my friend. We can do this the easy way – or the hard way. I'm going to count-"

That was enough of this. "No."

"What? Wait what no? How can you say no? I haven't even told you my demands yet. Now you've made me lose my train of thought."

"You want to start over?" Dillon suggested helpfully, his voice a bit rough from misuse. This kid might be nuts, in a grating sort of way – this was a bit adorable.

"No, no! Let's just start over. Let's just keep going. Uh – I need to take your car."

Dillon almost couldn't believe he was hearing this. Not many would jump a guy looking like him, depending on how you'd take the word 'jump'. The other guy either had a lot of balls or he was just stupid. But he didn't sound stupid. More like desperate.

"Oh well. Let's say borrow. I need to _borrow _your car-" he kept talking, "Okay? That sounds better?"

Dillon smiled, "And those are your demands huh?"

"Yeah, yeah – non negotiable."

"Can I say something now?"

"Sure."

"No."

There was a moment of silence and Dillon's anger went another notch. This was ridiculous. And he didn't exactly like to be _touched _even if the lunatic doing the touching wasn't even holding him up with a gun – but instead a truck muffler. He _might _have given the kid a ride, he wasn't exactly a softie but he wasn't a complete bastard. But instead, he'd had to go about it this way.

"Okay... okay that's fine you know. I wasn't going to point this out but _I'm _the one holding the blaster here – plus I'm a dangerous and-"

Oh yeah he had to be desperate.

"You're not holding a blaster." Dillon intervened. Maybe he could just talk this guy down before he entirely lost his cool.

"I think I am. What else would it be?"

For the life of how pissed he was getting, he was almost finding this hilarious.

"Feels like a four and a half inch outtake muffler. Kinda like the one you _might _have pulled off that rig over there."

He felt the man shift quickly, probably looking behind him and how easy it would be have been to just end this right here and now. Hell he could have done that a _long _time ago.

"Maybe. I mean... that's an interesting theory but smart guy like me he might disguise his blaster-"

All right he had enough.

He rounded on the man, knocking the muffler out of his hand and with the force of it – practically snapping it in half – _barely _reminding himself not to use any more strength so that he didn't take the kid's arm with it.

"Uh okay wait – not the face!" the kid said, holding up his arms as he backed frantically away as Dillon advanced.

The younger man tripped and fell but the sand broke his fall, Dillon didn't entirely notice – deciding he was by _far _not a threat anymore and reached down to rifle through his bag, "Any food? Gas?"

"Uh no, no I was actually hoping to _borrow _that from you."

Dillon tossed the bag at him, with enough force to knock him back the smaller man back a step.

"Okay! Okay-" he said, attempting at placating even though his voice still wavered. Dillon didn't hear it, turning back to the hood of his car and deciding to ignore him. Maybe he'd just go away... he wanted to ignore the part of him that really wished he wouldn't.

"Whoa – whoa where are you going? You can't leave me out here!"

Dillon didn't know what to say. He wasn't going to leave this guy out here... this guy he was refusing to get a good look at – the way he was already starting to feel like he wanted to be around him more. It wasn't anything to do with that, his awkward good looks which Dillon was _refusing _to take in any further. He had been alone out here for months. He probably would have jumped a grinder if it was sporting a jacket or a dress at some point.

Apparently his indecision was enough for the smaller man to catch up on the radio transmission from inside his car.

"Corinth?" the guy asked, smiling and turning the grin his direction, "You're looking for Corinth City."

He wasn't going to look at him. He just wouldn't. He'd seen enough of him to know that he was already attached and it scared him but he was _not _going to look at him. Not at how attractive he was, not at how bright that smile was and certainly not at the way he was smiling at _him_. This man was probably a con artist thrown out here by the mob, who only knew, but Dillon could feel that he'd play him for every angle he had.

"Am I right?"

Dillon kept his eyes firmly on the back windshield of the Fury.

"Yeah sure I mean..." the guy reached over for his compass, "The radiation makes the compass go all screwy-"

Dillon finally risked a glance, sighing and hoping he looked properly as unamused as he felt.

"-messes with the radio frequencies too. Very hard to find your way."

Dillon didn't like the steadily building feeling that he was being manipulated and contemplated punching him to shut him up.

"Fortunately for you _I _can take you there."

Dillon straightened, leaning in a bit and happy to see the smaller man was slightly intimidated. It wasn't fear, but it would do. Maybe it would keep him quiet. "If you knew where Corinth City was? You'd be there." he said, heading for the driver's side of the car.

"I was – I mean I just came from there look. I'm serious – see?" he took out a card and held it out to him, Dillon taking it, "Corinth Citizen ID."

Dillon glanced up disbelievingly at the name on card, "Ziggy? Your name is _Ziggy_?" That couldn't be real.

"Yep." 'Ziggy' smiled, "That's me."

"So what are you doing out here Ziggy?" Dillon asked, passing it back. He tried to make that _not _sound like a horrible pick up line. 'So, what's a guy like you doing out in a place like this?'.

"Well..." he said as he edged around the side of the Fury, "That's a long story. I'd be happy to tell you about it on the way..." he said, shooting a grin at him from over top the roof of the old muscle car.

Dillon stared at him, nonplussed.

"Or I could just... get in and keep my mouth shut."

"Yeah. The second one." Dillon agreed.

"Yeah." Ziggy nodded.

Dillon refused to see the expression on Ziggy's face as he got into the car, that lingering look, the lingering smile – and shut the door firmly behind. They so did not just have a moment.


	3. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two :: Baby, You're the Right Kind of Right

Jail. Somehow he hadn't seen this coming.

He turned a somewhat irritated glance towards the man who had gotten him into this whole mess and got a blank 'who me?' look in turn. He'd been interrogated, medically examined – which _hadn't _been pleasant – and the food was even worse in here than it had ever been in the toxic radiated dump outside the dome. But they'd made it.

Despite his new reluctant companion vocally protesting too otherwise.

Letting go some of his brooding thoughts he rationalized, much as he hated too, that it was him who had gotten Ziggy into this mess after all. The man should hate him for that. It was Dillon and his Venjix hardware that had gotten them thrown into jail, for good reasons that Dillon was still pissed about. This was keeping him for looking for his sister. So close and _so _far away in a way that just entirely grated on his nerves.

About as much as the interrogations by the so called Power Rangers who Ziggy had rambled on non stop about as soon as they had been thrown into the same cell. Nerves. Dillon hadn't known him for more then twenty four hours and he already knew it was nerves. But he didn't mind it. He wouldn't ever admit it out loud – certainly never tell Ziggy, but he found the constant chatter soothing. After months and months of silence it was... nice.

He'd only met two of the Rangers. Yellow and Red he was guessing from their obvious clothing choices. The Yellow one wasn't so bad, pushy – got to him in ways he didn't like to be reached but the Red one was just a plain _di_-

"Mr. Dillon and Mr. Gover." a pompous security guard said, his pants just about as overinflated as the rest of him... reflected his ego pretty fittingly. "Time for lunch."

And judging by the smirking look on his face, he was looking forward to throwing the new guys into a room full of hardened prisoners. And while Dillon could easily use this as his opportunity to get out of here, being a fugitive wouldn't make searching for his sister any easier. And... he gave Ziggy a look over his shoulder. No _way _would that kid last a second in here.

He sighed and gave the guard a look, "Lead the way."

Apparently the whole prison was set into a mountain of some description, carved out of rock. The term being 'thrown into the hole' was really pretty fitting of this place. Dillon didn't know whether to be impressed that they were being considered that high of a security risk to warrant putting them in this hell hole or be annoyed at how much harder it would be to get out of here.

"You know I may not be the _ideal_ partner-" Ziggy continued to ramble, he hadn't stopped since his pretty 'convincing' speech about shadow puppets, "You know but I'm here and I'm somebody."

After they descended a narrow flight of stairs by an armed escort, it opened up into what Dillon passed would be a cafeteria.

"You can't just go it all alone." Ziggy said, not noticing or entirely missing – or both – how the conversation in the room stopped and turned in their direction.

"Ziggy." an Asian man in gray overalls said – a dangerous and entirely threatening 'aren't we all friends here tone' that told Dillon just how much Ziggy was liked around here. And his earlier suspicions about him being thrown out of Corinth by a mob was starting to get more and more accurate. Everyone wanted a piece of him it seemed and not at all in a good way.

Dillon kept a reserved 'don't give a shit' expression on his face – glancing around at the crowd that was starting to gather. This wasn't going well fast, and he tried to convince himself that he didn't care.

"You've got a lot of nerve showing yourself in the city. After what you pulled." the man nodded and just like that, the guards disappeared. Paid off apparently. At the end of the world and with this city being the human race's last stand – apparently people could still be bought. And sell each other out.

"Ronan-" Ziggy smiled nervously, and while Dillon couldn't see his expression from where he was standing 'panicked' was probably a good word for it. "Listen that was a big misunderstanding. Uh my friend and I-" Ziggy said, putting a hand on his arm.

'Ronan' gave Dillon a point, "He with you?"

"Nope." Dillon smiled, remembering when Ziggy had been quick to deny ever being with him either.

"Uh no, no wait!" Ziggy said as they grabbed him and drug him off, Dillon suppressing a twinge of something he wouldn't name. He hated bullies... he wouldn't let Ziggy get seriously hurt. Maybe just scare him a little. No one had to get hurt. But he tensed, watching them clear a table hastily and throw Ziggy over it – pinning him down on his back.

He told himself not to care, he told himself not to give a damn – grabbing a plate and sitting down nearby. He hadn't eaten in days – that last can of tuna the last thing he'd ever consumed that was good and that was saying a lot. Maybe he could enjoy a minute or two of peace.

"You know what your problem is Ziggy? _Respect. _Even in here they respect me. You have no respect Ziggy. Not for anybody or anything-"

Dillon gave the men a glare from where he was sitting. One thing he hated more than Grinders – were bullies. People who took advantage of others. Used them. And this was going in dark ways, real fast. Ziggy was in amounts of trouble he wasn't even so sure Ziggy was aware of. In here – he wouldn't last. And it was already starting.

"That's why you'll always be a loser-" Ronan continued, the other inmates mockingly jeering at his words, "An outcast." he laughed, "_Alone_."

Dillon stood, taking his tray with him, moving around behind Ronan – who was more than preoccupied. So were the others, and that gave him plenty of room to get behind the inmate, clearing his throat to get his attention.

"Hey." Ronan said, turning around – his other 'buddies' taking notice and moving to surround Dillon. "What do you think you're doing? We're trying to have a conversation here."

"Oh really? Yeah I couldn't help but catch some of that. And..." Dillon tilted his head to one side, frowning thoughtfully as he stepped closer, "I couldn't help but disagree with some of it."

"Oh yeah?" Ronan asked, "Which part?"

Dillon smiled and met his stare levelly, "All of it." and shoved the rest of his plate, disgusting food and all right into his face, satisfied when the metal tray hit something not quite as hard and a satisfying crunch was heard. Dillon wondered vaguely before he was descended upon by every inmate in the cafeteria if Ronan would still be respected after the reconstructive surgery for his face.

They were too slow, and they were too weak. The only real challenge he had was restraining himself so as not to break _every _single bone in their body expect for a few here and there. Not one laid a hand on him, and within five minutes or less – probably far less – it was over and done with.

He dropped another plate he'd grabbed down onto the table, settling into the only thing he could reasonably handle these days in this place. The jello.

Suddenly he wasn't alone, Ziggy cautiously but not so much as the situation probably warranted – slipped into one of the only chairs left not toppled on the floor beside him.

"Ah... Dillon-"

"Forget it." Dillon said, glancing up his way, "I kind of like peace and quiet when I eat and they were talking too loud for my tastes."

Ziggy relaxed with a smile, falling quiet.

Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder, "Hey. You're in my seat."

"Ah..." Ziggy said, "Hector you _might _want to let this one slide."

"Why?" Hector smiled, pulling away, "What's this little punk going to do huh?"

"_Well_..." Ziggy smiled.

Dillon was going to enjoy this one.

Solitary confinement. After the fights in the cafeteria and pretty much to the front door – he _had _seen this one coming. But he wasn't ticked off about it. Actually he felt pretty 'de-stressed'. There was nothing like pummeling nearly thirty overgrown wastes of trash that were no excuses for human beings than the Grinders out there in the wastes that made Dillon feel supremely satisfied with himself.

Beyond that... Ziggy was safe. The thought of what would have happened to him... he may be mostly a machine – he wouldn't even want to know the actual percentage – but he still had a heart. And besides the confinement wasn't so solitary, they were afraid of him now – that much was certain, if the immediate chains strapped around his waist and chest had been any indication and the full body throw into the windowless and dark, dank, confinement cell _with _a full armed guard escort and guard rotation at the front door was any indication.

But it wasn't so solitary.

They had thrown Ziggy in there with him.

Probably as some sort of personal joke on their part. Well what they didn't know, had probably done both of them a favor. He didn't want Ziggy to be alone in here, he didn't want to think about why he cared so much, but... he liked his company.

"You don't... look comfortable." Ziggy said hesitatingly. "I mean from what I can see of you. Which isn't a whole lot in here."

Dillon looked over at him, declining to point out that he could see him pretty clearly. Benefits of being a machine... whatever the hell he was.

"I'm not." Dillon agreed.

"I'm sorry." Ziggy winced, looking away.

"Don't be." Dillon said gruffly, trying to find a way to wiggle free enough to let his enhanced flexibility do the rest. He couldn't muscle his way out of this one. 'Dinner' whatever you could call that slime they tried to pass as food in here, hadn't gone down so well. The food may be absolute shit but Dillon's system certainly wasn't used to eating three 'full' meals a day. And his stomach was letting him know it.

"Can I... can I help?" Ziggy asked, watching him and probably more hearing him than actually seeing – trying to get some room to get free.

"No." Dillon said flatly.

"Oh. Okay."

After a few more minutes though, Ziggy moved from where he was sitting, "Here just let me see okay? I've gotten out of some bad spots before. And can't you just I don't know break out of this? Strength doesn't seem to be an area you lack in to say the least."

"Just leave me alone. I'll figure it out. It's not so bad."

"It _seems _pretty bad-"

"Ziggy? Just sit down and shut up okay?"

He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. That was the last thing he wanted Ziggy to do. But unfortunately the other man listened, finding a spot against the opposite wall and raising his hands in surrender.

Dillon sighed irritably, struggled for half a second against the chains – and gave up. What had these been used for? Anchoring a fucking boat?

"I can't."

Ziggy blinked at his sudden statement, and if he was shocked – so was Dillon.

"You can't?" Ziggy asked again.

"The chains. They're around my stomach too. I can't break them without putting pressure on my stomach and it doesn't like the prison food right now."

"You mean your stomach hurts?"

"I believe that's what I said."

"Okay." Ziggy moved quickly over to him and gave him a smile, "Well for starters you're in the best of hands. I can practically get out of anything or in this case _you_."

"Seems like you've gotten me into far more than you've gotten me out of." Dillon said, raising an eyebrow and glancing pointedly down at the chains.

"True." Ziggy smiled around a slight wince, "My second point is that the food around here isn't supposed to make you feel _good _that's for sure. So you're not alone in that assessment. It's why they call it 'prison'. Everything in here, including the food, is punishment."

As he spoke his hands felt blindly along the chains but from what he could see, and feel, Dillon got that Ziggy did know what he was doing.

"Oh. This is bad." Ziggy said a moment or two later into the dark.

"I didn't want to hear that."

"I'm sure you didn't. Look I can give you a few inches but that's about it without anything to pick the lock with."

"That'll work. Just not around my stomach."

"Yeah okay I can..."

Dillon felt some of the pressure lift, Ziggy grunting with the effort to give him some of the room he couldn't have gotten the angle to do himself, "Are you doing anything? Because this is seriously hard to-"

"Got it." Dillon said, slipping his arm under the chains, followed by his shoulder and then quickly standing to let them drop down at his feet. He caught them to make sure they didn't make that much of a racket and Ziggy grinned.

"We did it!"

Dillon hesitated a moment, "Thanks."

"Are you kidding? After what you did for me – it's the least I can do."

Dillon winced and turned away, putting a hand on his stomach. Working around the chains before Ziggy's assistance had still made things impossibly worse. It was like... he didn't want to complete the thought or analyze what it could mean but it was like his body was rejecting food. Or starting too. Maybe he was becoming more of a machine than he'd realized. And that provoked some dark, resentful thoughts.

"Are you..." Ziggy spoke up softly, a bit tentatively, "Are you okay? Is it your stomach?"

"I'm fine." Dillon said quietly, trying not to snap. He wasn't sure he exactly succeeded.

"Well I can-" Ziggy stepped closer, "I know a little bit about medicine? Maybe I can help."

"I doubt it." Dillon said warily... it sounded too good to be true but he was starting to guess about what this man _didn't _know. He appeared to be a jack of all trades. Either that or a really good liar but so far, everything he'd spoken about checked out. Even the shadow puppets. _Especially _those.

"Can I see?" Ziggy asked, now standing beside him – nearly close enough to touch.

Dillon figured he'd change his name to denial because everything to do with how Ziggy made him feel made him want to deny _everything_.

Ziggy didn't appeared daunted by his lack of response, cautiously reaching out, giving him a reassuring look before his hand made contact, "Okay – where at?"

Dillon was a little overwhelmed by just how much that gentle, caring touch meant. He was desperate, he told himself. Absolutely beyond a doubt deprived. He was the poster child for abandonment issues and this was not a good way to get attached to someone. But despite all his mental protests – his mouth betrayed him.

"A... little higher."

"Okay.. right here?" Ziggy asked as he moved his hand up a bit, shifting closer and giving a thoughtful nod, "Sounds about right-" he said as other hand joined the first, ever so gently probing with his fingers, "This is exactly where your stomach is. Contrary to popular belief."

"Popular belief?" Dillon asked. Anything to keep him talking. Wait... that wasn't exactly how he'd meant to think it. And he could smell him now, even in here – when by all means they both should probably stink, and Dillon did... he smelled good. In an absurd way he smelled like sunshine. _Now _he was losing it.

"Yeah most people when they eat something wrong get cramps that they think is in their stomach when really it's in their lower intestine or colon. Where all the bad stuff happens when you really eat the wrong thing."

"You sound like you're talking from experience."

"Ah." Ziggy smiled, "Sort of-"

"Hey." Dillon hissed in protest when Ziggy's hands found a sore spot.

"Right there?" Ziggy asked, his eyes meeting his intently.

All Dillon could do was nod, but when he remembered Ziggy probably couldn't see it, he gave a quiet yes.

"Okay. There's not a whole lot I can do in here. But I can do something. If you'll let me. And it'll probably help."

"What?" Dillon asked warily.

"Well I can give you a massage." at Dillon's surely skeptical look he continued, "It's not just for cliché and obvious places," he chuckled, "It feels like the muscles in your stomach are extremely tense, now that has to hurt. You can lie but I know that has to be awful. And I could relax those muscles with a massage."

Dillon was quiet for a moment, unable to comprehend or believe what he was hearing. "You'd really do that?"

"It's not like I'm asking you to get naked and have wild monkey sex with me." Ziggy laughed nervously.

Dillon gave him a sharp look.

"Not that I would!" he quickly continued. "Besides... I'm really grateful for all that you've done."

Dillon gave a bit of an awkward sigh, "What do I do?"

"Uh I don't know nothing." Ziggy smiled, "I guess the only thing you can do is get as comfortable as you can. Here why don't you sit down. It would be better if you laid down-"

Dillon gave him another narrowed look but he think Ziggy missed it now that they weren't standing so close. Either way, the man seemed to send it without seeing it.

_"But _you don't have too."

Dillon found a spot on the floor and planted himself there, looking up at him expectantly. But Ziggy wasn't far beyond, moving quickly over to him and positioning himself close. Dillon was guessing the guy definitely didn't have a problem with personal boundaries – or recognizing them in others.

"Okay-" Ziggy said, giving him a look, "Just relax. I'm only going to use one hand. I don't want to do too much at once. It might hurt a little, but it'll get better I promise."

"Everything gets worse before it gets better?"

"Yeah." Ziggy smiled, relaxing a bit, "A lot like that. But it won't be bad. And besides, what Ziggy promises-" he gave him a grin, "Ziggy delivers."

For some reason that grin just made Dillon inexplicably nervous.

"Ready?" Ziggy asked more seriously.

Dillon just gave a nod, not sure what to expect. His stomach had been doing this off and on for a few months now – nearly the first thing he remembered since escaping from 'The Complex' he called it, dressed only in a flimsy exam gown and nothing else. He didn't even want to remotely think about the cause. So he didn't. And it had become background noise.

"Just try and relax." Ziggy smiled and Dillon realized only then that he had at some point tensed up.

He let out a breath and relaxed with it.

"Good." Ziggy said softly, supporting himself on one hand as he sat close beside him – the other moving over his stomach. And it wasn't so much a massage, not exactly, just a simple motion of his thumb and other four fingers moving at the same time as the others. But it was relaxing. If it didn't help so much with the pain, though it did a little, it was... soothing.

Dillon hastily reminded himself that he couldn't ever remember bodily contact with another human being – it was natural for him to intensify all of this. And he kept telling himself that.

"Does that help?"

Forgetting about the darkness in the room, Dillon just nodded. But Ziggy must have seen it, sharing the nod himself, "Good. See?" he smiled, "I promised."

Suddenly, Ziggy took his hand away – reaching up to cover a yawn with it.

"We should get some sleep." Dillon said, he doubted tomorrow was going to be any easier. But he was already missing what Ziggy had been doing and he glanced down at the younger man's hand – though they were probably the same age.

"Here I won't stop." Ziggy said, "We can lay down if you want."

Dillon hesitated but it was draft in here. He told himself it would be better that way, if they were closer. Ziggy could easily disappear behind a phone pole if he turned sideways, or maybe not even then. Dillon took it easier, but not really, and he doubted Ziggy could take it as well.

"Okay." he said finally, giving a nod.

Ziggy relaxed with a smile and hesitatingly stretched out beside him, pausing a moment but reaching out to put his hand back on his stomach.

"Thanks Dillon." he said quietly.

"You're doing all this? And you're thanking me?" Dillon asked disbelievingly, hardly able to understand the reasoning behind that.

"Yeah well-" he gave a sudden yawn, hiding it against an arm, "I don't think I've ever had a friend before, well not really. It would be hard to define exactly what I could call a friend. And despite how much trouble I got you into-"

"It wasn't any trouble."

"See you keep saying that but I call 'trouble' getting arrested-"

"I got us arrested. Me and my Venjix hardware."

"Okay I'll give you that one but I mean everything after. All this."

Dillon gave a soft sigh, feeling lulled by the motions of the smaller man's hand on his stomach – letting his eyes go partly closed, "Go to sleep Ziggy."

"What about you?" he asked, but he was already shuffling closer – eyes closed, hand moving slower over his stomach.

"I don't sleep." Dillon murmured quietly, staring up at the stone ceiling.

"Yeah well-" another yawn, "Maybe you know... this one time... everyone sleeps. At some point..."

Dillon looked over as Ziggy finished his sentence, a reluctant smile quirking up at the corner's of his lips seeing the other boy well and passed out – sound asleep, hand still resting over Dillon's stomach.

In a strange way, in a very strange and ironic way – Dillon's situation _could _be considered worse than it had been before, though outside the Dome – that was the worst you could get. But here and now, locked up in solitary confinement with possibly no way out and a whole prison full of jumpy guards now ready to shoot and ask questions never if he so much as sneezed... life for the first time didn't seem all that bad.


End file.
